


And the internal wound bleeds on in silence

by Pseudothyrum



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1770241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudothyrum/pseuds/Pseudothyrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Hannibal leaves, Will copes by interacting with a hallucination of him. This works surprisingly well, until the real Hannibal returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the internal wound bleeds on in silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwixforBats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwixforBats/gifts).



> Written for the kinkmeme prompt "While hiding in France Hannibal receives news that Will survived the stabbing. He's glad to hear it but then keeps hearing about how happy and stable Will is now and grows unsatisfied as he feels he didn't matter to Will at all. He goes back to kill him and sees that Will's house seems indeed well kept with even more dogs than before. Then Will comes home. And... acts as if Hannibal being there is completely normal.  
> Turns out that Will has been coping by talking to a hallucination of Hannibal. So Will just goes "oh, you're already there? I've bought some tomatoes at the market, I think you would have liked them." and Hannibal is heartbroken. "

The news comes to him in pieces, drips of information collecting in the vast pool of knowledge he has gathered about Will Graham. It starts slowly, a Tattle Crime article detailing the massacre in Hannibal’s house, and how Will Graham had survived it all. The pictures come soon after. He is washed out, looking more like a ghost than a man against the crisp white sheets, the tubes running into him and out of him, white squares hiding the cracks in his skin. He marvels at the beauty of his creation. Rivulets of information stream in under the auspices of Freddie Lounds’ insatiable curiosity. He soaks it all up, and waits for the news of Will’s collapse, for the careful repairs to his façade to disintegrate and fall apart, to let what is within seep out. The flood never comes, and details of Will Graham begin to dry up, not because he has broken, but because he has moved on so thoroughly. Happiness and stability are not newsworthy. A year has passed and it seems that Hannibal’s mark has long since washed away. Will Graham has become a new man, made of whole cloth, unblemished by the destruction that Hannibal had so carefully wreaked. This will not do. 

***

He finds Will’s house much the same as it had always been, an island in the midst of a troubled sea, seemingly untouched by the outside world. The dogs still remember him, and they flock about his feet, tails wagging, cold noses pressed against his palms. The two new dogs seem more reticent, but approach him nonetheless. He lets them flock, busy surveying the interior of the house. It is clean but obviously lived in, much as it has always been. He burns to find himself so easily cast aside, as though he were a minor inconvenience that Will has overcome and nearly forgotten. He runs a finger along the blade of the knife he has brought with him. He will make sure Will doesn’t forget him again. 

***

He doesn’t have to wait long; soon, the agitation and excitement of the dogs alerts him to Will’s impending arrival. He stands ready in the kitchen, just out of sight so that Will has to enter the room to see him. Will is carrying several bags of groceries, and when he walks into the kitchen his eyes go immediately to Hannibal. They stare at each other for a long moment, and Hannibal remains still and silent, waiting to see how Will reacts. Unexpectedly, Will’s eyes slide away from Hannibal and he continues moving towards the counter, muttering something that sounds like, “you’re here faster than usual,” under his breath. Hannibal stands uncertainly as Will fishes through his bags, drawing out a bag of bright red tomatoes.

“I saw these at the store and I thought of you. I was worried I might even see you there,” Will says, “I thought you would have liked to use them. In something pretentious and fancy, of course,” he smiles a bitter half-smile and rolls the tomatoes around in his hands, his face drawn down suddenly in contemplation. 

“You have... tainted everything about my life. I can’t even eat without remembering you,” He sighs and turns away, “You aren’t here anymore, but I see you everywhere. You’re off in France or wherever, and I have to put up with you here, every day of my life, invading even the moments that used to be mine.” He begins, slowly, to unpack his groceries. 

“I tried to do what you said, wade into the quiet of the stream, but the stream is polluted. It runs red with blood, or the memory of blood, the memory of you. The banks are scabrous, and all the fish are corpses choking the reeds. Sometimes, Abigail is th-there,” he chokes, takes a breath, recovers, “Abigail is there, in the water, and all I can do is watch her drown, held under the smothering waves by the weight of you.” He leans against the counter, and his eyes meet Hannibal’s. 

“You took everything from me, and now my whole life is in your shadow. I feel myself withering by the day, bereft of sunlight, and,” he laughs, mirthless and cold, his eyes are empty, “and the only thing keeping me here is you. Knowing that you’re out there, waiting for me to fall apart, seeing you every day, watching my every step like we both know it’s only a matter of time...” He straightens suddenly and turns away, but not before Hannibal catches renewed fire in his eyes. “No. You were right, you did change me. I’m stronger than you are now, and I will find you, and I will have my reckoning. I don’t need you haunting my steps or cluttering up the corners of my mind anymore,” he fixes his eyes on Hannibal again, his face as set and serious as Hannibal has ever seen it

“Goodbye, Hannibal,” he says, and he walks away without a backwards glance, leaving Hannibal to stand alone in the darkening kitchen, and to contemplate. He has left his mark still, and this is enough for now, it is enough to know that Will Graham has never quite shaken his scars. He will await his reckoning, secure in the knowledge that he has already won.


End file.
